


King With No Crown

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Did I mention the praise kink?, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gang Violence, Illegal Activities, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Sadist Tom, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 06:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: The year is 1921, and Tom is a gang leader who doesn't take no for an answer. When bar owner Sirius Black refuses to pay for Tom's 'protection', Tom kidnaps Sirius's godson, Harry as revenge. Unfortunately for Harry, Tom becomes quite taken with him.





	King With No Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amortentia_on_her_lips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amortentia_on_her_lips/gifts).



> This was written as a gift for a Secret Santa exchange. 
> 
> Please read the tags before you go any further. The requests were for a sadistic, ruthless Tom, and a hurt Harry, so this is basically a story of Tom manipulating Harry into having feelings for him. The Stockholm Syndrome is strong, and the praise kink is stronger xD

**XXX**

Harry’s footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor, as he crept towards the kitchen. 

It was three in the morning, yet the flicker of candle light shining through the crack in the door, and the soft murmuring of voices told Harry he wasn’t the only one awake.

He paused at the threshold, crinkling his brow as he wondered what could possibly have both his godfathers awake at such a time.

“We can’t give in to him,” Sirius was saying firmly. “We can’t! We can’t allow ourselves to be in debt to him.”

“But Sirius,” Remus protested soothingly. “What choice do we have? We can’t refuse him.”

Harry frowned. He had no idea who they were talking about, but whoever the mysterious man they were referring to was, he sounded like he was a problem. 

He winced as he leaned forwards too much, the floorboards creaking under the movement, and the voices stopped all at once.

“Harry?” Sirius called out cautiously.

“Yes, it’s me,” Harry said, pushing the door open and stepping inside the dimly lit kitchen. “Is something wrong? Why are you both awake so late?”

His gaze immediately fell on Sirius, and the black and purple bruise that was blossomed around a swollen eye. 

“What happened?” Harry asked urgently. “Are you in trouble? Do you need-?”

“It’s nothing, Harry, don’t worry,” Sirius murmured, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. “We have it under control.”

“But-” Harry began to protest, his words getting cut off by Remus almost immediately.

“It’s our problem to deal with, Harry. We don’t want you to get hurt by involving you.”

Harry scowled. He was eighteen now, an adult in every sense of the world, yet Sirius and Remus still insisted on treating him like a child. For several years they’d allowed him to clean tables and wash pots at their bar, and now he was old enough they let him serve drinks to the patrons, but they never bestowed any further responsibility on him. 

All he wanted to do was help, but Remus and Sirius both seemed to think their burdens were theirs alone to carry. 

“How was your shift?” Sirius asked, not so subtly diverting the topic of conversation. “Were the customers all behaved tonight?”

Harry’s frown deepened; Sirius didn’t usually care about the politeness of their patrons—after all, drunks could only be so well-mannered. 

“Everything was fine tonight,” Harry answered, sighing to himself as he realised without a doubt that Sirius wasn’t going to share anything with him. “A fight broke out between two blokes over a bet, but McLaggen sorted them out. Sirius, are you sure-?” He couldn’t help but ask again.

“Harry, please,” Sirius said, reaching out to take Harry’s hand softly in his and squeezing it gently. “Don’t fret about Remus and I. But-” he exchanged a glance with Remus- “I’d like you to start walking home with somebody; Ron and his brothers, perhaps.”

“What?” Harry cried. “I’m quite capable of walking home by myself!”

“Harry,” Sirius snapped sharply, his tone instantly quelling Harry’s rage. “Please, just...do as you’re told, okay?”

“Why don’t you head up to bed, Harry?” Remus added gently. “Sirius and I will be up shortly.”

Harry cast them one last, concerned look before reluctantly leaving them to it. He just had to trust that Sirius and Remus knew what they were doing.

**XXX**

Sirius’s bar was on a corner of a street, as grey and grotty as the rest of the buildings around it. The people who came into the bar didn’t care how run-down it looked, because they also lived in the poor neighbourhood. No matter how hard up people were for money, though, there was always patrons in the bar; some came to forget the horrors of the war, and others came to celebrate the end of it. 

Harry had to do a double-take when a group of smartly-dressed men entered the bar, their woolen pea coats pulled over sleek slacks and polished black shoes. The elegant way the men carried themselves, and the crisp tone of their accents told Harry they weren’t from his neighbour; though they were still Londoners, they lacked the Cockney twang that those of them living in the East End usually carried.

“What do you reckon they’re doing in a place like this?” Hermione asked from beside him. It was just the two of them tending the bar tonight, with the new bloke who’d come over from Ireland, Seamus, in the kitchen.

“I dunno,” Harry murmured, watching as the men took their place at a table. The people who had been sat there previously had scarpered to take their drinks standing against the wall, which only furthered Harry’s frown. With all the trouble that Sirius and Remus had been talking about… “I’ll go see what they want; I don’t want you getting mixed up if they’re here to cause trouble.”

Hermione nodded reluctantly, and Harry grabbed a rag cloth, swinging it over his arm as he approached the table cautiously. The men’s voices fell silent as he neared, and their gazes fell all at once on him. 

Harry’s eyes instantly landed on one man in particular, sat in the middle of the group yet somehow standing out against all of them. While most of the men seemed to be in their forties or fifties, this one looked much younger, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties. He was exceedingly handsome, with thick dark hair that curled ever-so-slightly, and dark grey eyes which were fixed intently on Harry. Even sat down, Harry could tell that the man was tall. As Harry got closer, he saw that the man had a single scar on his face, going diagonally from the corner of his right eye and down over his cheek. It was a single, smooth white line, one that didn’t take away from his handsomeness, but one that suggested a potentially dangerous path—injuries picked up in the war never looked so neat. 

“Hello,” Harry greeted, forcing himself to give the men a polite smile; so far they hadn’t done anything to actually prove his suspicions right, other than looking rich and powerful. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Whiskey all round—the finest one you have,” the handsome man said, beckoning Harry towards him with a finger. “I fear the quality in a place like this won’t be much, but it will do.”

Harry scowled, but the rest of the men laughed dutifully, the sound booming and heavy. 

“Anything else?” Harry ground out, eyes widening alarm when the man reached out and grasped Harry’s wrist in long, graceful fingers. 

“Let the girl get it,” the man said, snapping his fingers to catch Hermione’s attention. “You there! Your finest whiskey all round—get one for this pretty, young thing, too.”

Harry flushed despite himself, and tried to yank his wrist out of the man’s grasp, only to find the grip only tightening further.

“You mustn’t try to fight me, darling,” the man said. “I’m just trying to be nice. My name’s Tom, Tom Riddle, what’s yours?”

Harry glared down at Tom’s face, but Tom’s eyes simply glittered in amusement. 

“Well, sweet thing?” Tom prompted. “I know you’re not deaf, so I sure hope you’re not simply choosing to ignore me.”

Though Tom’s voice was sweet, there was a sense of danger behind it, like he was a man not to be messed with. 

“I’m Harry, Harry Potter,” he answered finally, trying once more to pull his wrist away but to no avail. 

“Harry, hmm?” Tom purred, yanking on Harry roughly until he stumbled onto Tom’s lap. Tom’s other arm came round Harry’s middle, effectively trapping him there. “And what’s a lad like you doing working in a place like this? You can’t even be old enough to serve drinks, can you?”

“I’m eighteen, actually,” Harry protested hotly, his cheeks flushing as the eyes of all the other men leered at him. “And my godfather owns this bar, so…”

He trailed off the moment he noticed the leers and the smirks wiped off the faces of the men, and Tom himself went tense beneath him.

“So you’re the godson of the owner, hmm?” Tom repeated, his tone uncomfortably hungry. “Well, lads, I think we best be getting out of here; I get the sense we’re not wanted.”

He shoved Harry off his lap roughly, but kept his arms wrapped round Harry’s middle as he stood behind him. Tom pressed himself close behind Harry, and Harry had been right about Tom’s height—Harry only just came up to his shoulder. 

“Don’t work yourself too hard, darling,” Tom murmured in his ear. “It would be a shame if something bad happened to you.”

He let Harry go and proceeded to stroll from the bar without another word, the group of men following dutifully behind him.

“Do they not want these now?” Hermione asked quietly, and Harry turned to see her still pouring out several glasses of whiskey. 

“Put it back in the bottle,” Harry said. “Leave one out for me, actually; I could do with it.”

**XXX**

Harry sent Hermione home from her shift early, making sure she caught a cab with Seamus to make sure she away safely. Cabs cost a lot of money, but Tom’s gang had made them both feel uncomfortable, and Harry would rather spend the money on Hermione than himself. 

The last of the patrons cleared out by two, and Harry gave everything a quick wipe down and stacked the chairs on the tables before locking the bar up for the night. It wasn’t too long a walk to his house from the bar, shorter if he cut through the park. 

His thoughts fell back to Tom, and Sirius telling Harry he didn’t want him walking him alone, so Harry planned to take the long way until the rain started to fall. It was mid-winter so the rain was like ice on his face and hands. He shoved his hands in his pockets and threw up the meagre fabric of his hood, picking up his pace as he headed off the street and into the park. 

He stiffened as he heard footsteps behind him, but the sound stopped almost as soon as he noticed it. He turned around anyway, but saw nothing in the darkness, and chalked it up to simple paranoid. Sirius had just gotten into his head, that was all. 

Regardless, Harry began to walk a little faster, heart racing ever-so-slightly in his chest. He jumped when he heard somebody clear their throat behind him, and though it could have been anyone—a homeless man, perhaps, or an insomniac out for a walk—Harry didn’t even care to look back and see, allowing his feet to carry him into a run.

The footsteps behind him were unmistakable this time, running after him. Harry could feel his heart in his throat, his legs feeling almost weightless as he knew he just had to make it back onto the streets where he’d nearly be home and-

A body came at him from the side, colliding with him and knocking him to the floor. Harry writhed against his much larger attacker, opening his mouth to shout, over to have a hand slammed over it. 

“Good work, Fenrir,” came a familiar, cultured voice, and Harry paused his struggling to look up in alarm at Tom who was looking down at him with a cold smile. “Tie him and gag him, then give him to me.”

The man called Fenrir was impossibly strong, and managed to hold Harry down with one hand while he helped another tie a thick length of rope around his wrist and ankles, more strapping his arms to his chest, and then a wad of material was shoved in Harry’s mouth to gag him with. He hauled Harry roughly to his feet, and Harry nearly stumbled right back over with the rope around his ankles.

“Hello, darling,” Tom said casually, as though they were long-lost friends who’d run into each other for the first time in years. “Oh, don’t look so upset to see me; it’s not all bad.”

Harry ground out a stream of curses which were muffled by the gag, and he attempted to shove his body forwards into Tom’s, which only resulted in Harry falling over instead. Tom caught him easily, smirking down at him as his strong arms wrapped around Harry’s body.

“There’s no need for that,” Tom tutted. “Listen, Harry, this is very simple. I don’t plan on hurting you, though that’s not to say I won’t if you push me to it. But your silly godfather just hasn’t been listening to me; I warned him that there are some very bad people out there, but as I’m the worst of them all, I’d be able to protect him. All I wanted in return was a fee, yet your godfather refused to pay up, no matter how much my lads tried to beat it into him that it was the right now. But perhaps he’ll be more willing to cooperate when we have his godson at stake.”

Tom laughed coldly, throwing Harry back towards Fenrir who caught him easily. “Prepare him for transportation, Fenrir, and make it fast.”

Fenrir grunted, throwing a cloth hood over Harry so that he was bathed in darkness. Then a blunt force hit the side of his head, and Harry knew no more. 

**XXX**

Harry blinked blearily, eyes heavy as he opened them. He found himself in darkness, causing panic to overtake him. He writhed, trying to sit up but only to find his arms bound to his side, prompting him to thrash harder until strong arms pulled him back down onto something soft. 

“There, there,” murmured a smooth yet mocking voice. “No need to panic, darling.”

As Harry tried to calm his racing heart, memories came back to him; of Tom and a large man named Fenrir attacking him and...and _kidnapping_ him. Of them tying him up and shoving a cloth hood over his head, and knocking him out. He tried to shout at Tom to let him go, only to find his mouth still gagged.

He let out a sob in desperation, and fingers petted him through the hood over his head in a way which was supposed to be soothing.

“It won’t be so bad, Harry,” Tom said. “So long as you do what you’re told.”

Harry huffed into his gag, realising belatedly that his head had to be on Tom’s lap, and they were in a _car_. It couldn’t be a cab, because Harry couldn’t imagine any cab driver willingly driving an obvious kidnapper, which had to mean Tom was rich if he could afford his own car. 

The car came to a stop shortly afterwards, but Harry had no idea how long they’d been driving while he’d been unconscious. He didn’t even know if it was still night or if morning had risen. More importantly, he had no idea what Tom’s plans were, or if he’d ever see Sirius and Remus again. 

Tom shifted from underneath Harry, and moments later rough hands were yanking Harry out of the car. He was thrown over a broad shoulder, a strong arm pinning his legs down so he couldn’t kick out. 

“You’re going to love my little club,” Tom said conversationally, his voice distant enough for Harry to be sure that Tom wasn’t the one carrying him. “It’s nothing like that dreary pub you were working at. Come, Fenrir, let’s get our guest sat down inside.”

Harry could hear a buzz of noise coming from inside the apparent-club, which went silent for just a moment as Tom entered before starting up once more. 

Fenrir dumped Harry on what felt like the surface of the bar, and pulled the hood off his head without an ounce of delicacy. Harry blinked as the lighting of the bar hit his eyes, squirming once more against his bindings. 

“You’re a feisty thing, aren’t you?” Tom commented in amusement, stepping between Harry’s legs and placing a hand on either side of him, completely bracketing Harry in.

Harry froze, choosing instead to glare furiously at Tom.

Tom wasn’t deterred; rather than looking offended, he simply continued to look amused. 

“I’m going to explain some things to you, my sweet, and if you promise to be a good boy I’ll untie you afterwards,” Tom purred.

Harry nodded sullenly, seeing he had no choice in the matter.

He glanced over Tom’s shoulder curiously, spying groups of well-dressed men gathered in groups playing cards, and scantily-clad women weaving in and out of the patrons, serving drinks on trays.

“You’ll get a tour later, but for now you focus on me, understood?” Tom snapped. “Now, Harry, I don’t want you to think I’m a bad man; in fact, I’m doing this for your godfather’s benefit. As I said before, there are others out there who would cause Sirius a lot of trouble, and I simply want to protect him. It’s not so bad to want money for that service though, is it? So now, all Sirius has to do is send me enough money to cover my protection charges and the ransom amount for _you_ , and you’ll be sent home unharmed and he won’t have to worry about others who might cause him and his business harm.”

Tom gave him a dazzling smile. 

“Don’t look so morose, love,” Tom tutted. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but you truly don’t need to worry about coming to harm as long as you do as I tell you. And you’ll see that godfather of yours again as soon as he pays up. It’s really all down to him now. If I untie you do you promise not to run? I wouldn’t recommend running, anyway; it will only get you tackled by my assistants.”

Tom’s fingers deftly undid the ropes around Harry’s body, allowing Harry to stretch out his stiff limbs. The gag was the last thing to go, and Harry hadn’t realised how sore his mouth was until the gag was gone.

“You’re an arsehole,” Harry ground out, rage building as Tom only continued to smile. “Why do you think you can play with people this way? What are you? Some kind of monster?”

In a blur of movement Tom’s fingers were curled around Harry’s wrists in a painful grasp, pinning them to the bartop. 

“That’s what some people call me,” Tom said icily. “They call me a monster, the devil, a _freak_ , and they usually call me those things right before I kill them.”

Harry’s eyes widened in horror, rubbing absently at his sore wrists when Tom finally released him.

“Is that true?” Harry asked, his voice scarcely more than a whisper. “You _kill_ people?”

“Only if they cross me,” Tom answered simply. “But you’re not going to do that, are you, Harry?”

“Voldemort?” a nervous voice called out from behind them. Tom turned, and Harry quirked his brow at the strange name the man had called Tom. “We’ve got Moody for you.”

Tom moved away from between Harry’s legs, allowing Harry to catch a glimpse of a rather battered looking man being held up by two men dressed in smart black suits. The man—Moody—spat at Tom’s feet, blood dripping from his mouth; Harry’s heart almost burst through his chest when he realised with sickening horror that Moody’s tongue had been cut out. 

“Excuse me one moment, will you, darling?” Tom said, briefly turning back to Harry. “Pansy, watch my guest, will you? If he gets free then you’re out on the streets for my men to do with you what they wish, understood?”

A short, curvaceous woman clad only in a thigh-high, low-cut dress stepped closely to Harry, looking him up and down curiously as Tom and the three men stepped outside. Harry was tempted to make a run for it, but several tough-looking men lingered by the door, and even though he didn’t know this Pansy girl, he didn’t want her getting in trouble for Harry’s actions. 

“You’ll be fine, luv,” Pansy murmured gently. “Just do as Tom tells you and you won’t face any trouble.”

“So he kept telling me,” Harry muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“That’s a nice name,” Pansy smiled. 

“I like yours,” Harry said quietly. “My mother was named after a flower, too.”

“I’m sure you’ll see her again soon,” Pansy murmured, not picking up on Harry’s use of the past tense. “Like I said, don’t give Tom any reason to hurt you and he won’t. He can be cruel, but he’s not unfair.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them; Harry didn’t really feel up to making polite conversation.

When Tom finally returned to the bar, his hands were covered in blood.

**XXX**

To give Harry a ‘tour’ of the club, Tom paraded him around and made him watch as the men and women all fell silent around Tom and looked at him with a mixture of fear and respect. Every single person stopped what they were doing to bow their heads and greet Tom, even men who looked far older and physically tougher than Tom. 

It was a clear demonstration of power, and it was quickly becoming obvious to Harry that if he wanted to see Sirius again, he was going to have to go against his instincts and obey Tom’s rules, because he didn’t seem like somebody who would take kindly to rebellion.

The club itself was a den of iniquity, the scantily-clad women apparently all prostitutes, and the male patrons were enjoying the company of the ladies while partaking in illegal gambling matches and smoking strange substances which Tom said had come from other countries. 

Tom introduced Harry to only a handful of people, so Harry reasoned they had to be valuable people to Tom’s ‘business’. There were blond twins, Abraxas and Lucius, who looked rich enough to be royalty; Rodolphus and Rabastan were also brothers, each with long red hair and muscles on their arms which looked thicker than Harry’s waist. Barty, Severus, and Evan were all calculating looking brunettes who regarded Harry with immediate bemusement. 

“A new toy for you, Tom?” the man named Severus smirked. “You do get bored easily, don’t you?”

“Harry is not a toy,” Tom retorted sharply, laying a hand possessively on Harry’s shoulder. “He’s my guest.”

“Or hostage,” Harry muttered darkly under his breath despite his promise to himself to behave. He winced when Tom’s grip on his shoulder tightened painfully. 

“Rabastan, Rodolphus; you remember Sirius Black, don’t you?” Tom asked with feigned delight. “Harry is his godson, and seeing as he didn’t listen to the message that _we_ gave him, this sweet thing here has granted Sirius one more chance to do the right thing.” 

Harry snapped his head up, looking at Tom in alarm. “What do you mean _one_ more chance?” 

“Don’t fret your pretty little head about that,” Tom purred. “If you truly matter to your godfather then he’ll pay, and if he doesn’t...well, you’ll know you were nothing to him and therefore you’re better off without him anyway.” Now, shall I show you to your sleeping quarters?”

Without waiting for a response, Tom grasped Harry’s wrist to pull him along, giving a dazzling smirk to his snickering cronies as he passed them by. 

Tom guided Harry towards the back of a club, past a doorway guarded by two burly men, and up a crooked staircase which led up to a narrow corridor. Tom stalked past several doors before entering the final one on the left hand side. 

The room was sparsely decorated, with a single, metal frame bed, a wardrobe which looked like it had seen better days, one of the doors hanging off its hinges, and a brown leather chest with a single clasp on the opening. Tom pushed Harry roughly at the bed, and he grasped desperately at the mattress as he stumbled over. 

“This is where you and I will be sleeping,” Tom stated, tugging a finger underneath his tie to pull the material away from his neck in one elegant move. “You’ll be safest here with me.” 

“But there’s no second bed,” Harry pointed out, feeling rather stupid when Tom simply gave him a bemused grin.

“Exactly, sweet thing,” Tom murmured. “Plenty of room for the both of us in that one, don’t you think?”

Harry promptly flushed. “But I-but we- _share_?”

Harry would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he found Tom attractive. Despite the fact Tom was clearly crazed and dangerous, he had a handsomeness and charm to him which was almost unnatural. However Harry had kept his attraction to men a close secret, only informing Sirius and Remus who were a couple themselves. Society didn’t look too kindly on men who loved men, and Harry feared the violence that might strike him for something he couldn’t help. 

That said, sharing a bed with another man was completely alien to Harry, and something which Harry had fantasised about but never imagined would come true. Admittedly, the men in his fantasies _looked_ like Tom, but Harry often pictured them to be far less murderous. 

“Two good-looking men innocently sharing a bed?” Tom cooed. “Hardly a tragic situation, is it? I can lock you up in a remote shed somewhere, if you’d rather.”

Harry’s heart jumped as Tom called him good-looking.

‘ _He’s dangerous_ ’, Harry’s mind reminded him. ‘ _You cannot find him attractive_.’

Tom took a seat beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. Harry could feel the warmth radiating off Tom’s body, and could smell the citrusy tang of his soap. It was sharp, just like Tom, and Harry breathed in deeply despite himself.

“I’ll make do here,” Harry murmured, shrugging, hoping Tom didn’t place the blush on his face for what it was. 

One side of Tom’s mouth curled up in satisfaction. 

“You’re so tense,” he drawled, dropping a hand onto Harry’s thigh, his long, elegant fingers rubbing small circles into the cotton of Harry’s trousers. “May I let you in on a little secret, Harry? I am rather fond of pretty things, so you don’t ever have to worry about me carving up that lovely face of yours.”

Tom unsheathed a switchblade from his pocket, the edge of the knife glinting in the dim light coming from the overhead bulb.

“But don’t be mistaken, I very much know how to use this and have no qualms in doing so when needed,” Tom purred. 

Harry thought it best not to mention that Sirius had shown him how to use a switchblade himself years ago. 

“I’ll behave, don’t worry,” Harry said sharply. “But I’m not doing it because I’m scared of you; I just want to get home to Sirius in one piece.”

Tom smirked.

**XXX**

Harry woke up groggily, eyes heavy as he blinked them. Harry hadn’t slept well, his mind racing with thoughts all night until exhaustion finally claimed him for short bursts at a time. The whole abducted-for-ransom thing had certainly been weighing on Harry’s mind, but the fact Tom was curled up beside him, trapping Harry between Tom and the wall, had been quite the significant factor.

Harry shifted, prompting one of Tom’s arms to wrap around him to hold him close. Harry’s back was pressed flush against Tom’s firm, warm body, and Harry flushed despite himself. 

“Relax, darling,” Tom’s voice murmured, hot breath tickling the back of Harry’s neck. “You and I have no rush this morning.”

Harry had noticed the night before that Tom was fond of pet names, but somehow it seemed far seedier when they were sharing a bed together. Harry turned over onto his other side to tell Tom so, only to jump back in horror at the sight of the sleek, black snake curled up on top of Tom, staring back at Harry with beady eyes. 

“Why?” Harry uttered lowly, not taking his eyes off the creature. “Do you have a snake?”

Tom smiled, using a finger to pet the top of the snake’s head. The snake arched up into the touch, flicking a pink tongue out of his mouth. 

“This is Nagini,” Tom said fondly. “She’s a Black Mamba, which is one of the most venomous snakes in the world. I can’t defend myself with a knife or gun while I’m asleep, so Nagini is a second pair of eyes for me.”

“Venomous?” Harry repeated faintly. “How do know she won’t bite _you_ while you sleep?”

Tom appeared entirely unconcerned by the prospect. “I have a gift with snakes; it’s almost as though we can understand one another. I found Nagini while I was travelling in Botswana, and brought her home with me. She won’t bite or attack you unless you threaten either me or her; be polite, and she’ll leave you be.”

“Sounds an awful lot like you,” Harry muttered under his breath, before looking at Tom curiously. “You’ve been to Botswana? What’s it like there? I’ve never left Britain.”

Tom raised a brow, as though he was surprised by Harry’s question. 

“It’s very beautiful, and very dry; a lot of animals to see. I’ve been to several countries in Africa, and almost all in Europe. I’d like to see the Americas one day.”

“My parents were supposed to see America,” Harry said softly. His parents had been gone half his life now, but he still felt a twinge of sadness every time he thought about them. “They never made it.”

“Why not?” Tom asked. “Casualties of the war?”

Harry shook his head. “I said they never made it to America, but they very nearly did. They were on-board the Titanic, and apparently my mother refused to get on a lifeboat without my father so they went down together. I was nine at the time.”

“That’s something you and I have in common,” Tom murmured, absently petting Nagini’s head. “We’re both orphans; I lost my mother when I was an infant, while my father was was never around in my youth and he died not long after I rediscovered him when I was sixteen, so I had to fight tooth and nail to get where I am today. I know I may come across as intimidating or ruthless, but I’ve had to be tough to get ahead in a world which wanted to hold me back. _You_ , Harry, must understand that, no?”

Harry bit his lip, gazing into Tom’s strong, molte eyes. Harry didn’t approve of illegal substances and gambling games—or indeed animal smuggling—but that wasn’t to say he couldn’t relate to Tom having to scrape his way through life as an orphan, with nobody looking out for him but himself. Harry was lucky enough to have Remus and Sirius, but Tom had most likely been entirely alone; it was no wonder his moral compass was skewed. 

“Yes, Tom,” Harry said with a smile. “I understand.” 

**XXX**

Harry could scarcely believe he was feeling the cold breeze on his skin, the bitter air biting his ungloved hands. 

Unfortunately Sirius hadn’t yet paid the ransom, and Harry hadn’t escaped, but rather Tom had taken Harry out for a walk. Harry had been staying with Tom for three days now and was beginning to go a bit stir-crazy at being locked inside, so Tom had offered to take him down by the river. Of course it was early in the morning, around three am, so nobody would see them, but Harry appreciated Tom’s effort to be nice. 

Tom was… _interesting_ , to say the least. He was always polite to Harry, charming and attentive, and was full of wondrous stories about his worldly travels—it was obvious that Tom was a very intelligent man. When it was just the two of them, Tom seemed almost like an ordinary man, aside from expecting obedience and submission from Harry like he was some kind of pet. However around others, like in Tom’s club, Tom exuded power and danger, commanding fear and respect from those around him, and showing no mercy to anybody who dared to cross him. Often Tom would disappear and return with blood on his hands and clothes, never showing any sign of injury himself. 

Harry certainly wasn’t the subservient little follower that Tom expected him to be, but Tom had never hurt him. There were times that Harry thought he might, like earlier in the day when Harry had shouted at Tom for locking him away like he wasn’t a real, breathing human being, and Tom had grabbed Harry’s wrist and got right in his face, snarling, but reigned in control as he always seemed to do with Harry. 

He knew it was a bad way to think, but Harry found it quite touching that Tom, who otherwise seemed heartless, was more considerate with him. Taking him out for a walk, for example, was a luxury that most other kidnappers would allow their charge. 

“I do believe,” Tom murmured, his voice as crisp as the winter air. “That you should come and work behind my bar when all this business between myself and Sirius is finished.”

“What?” Harry cried, amusement mingling with shock at Tom’s words. “You’ve kidnapped me! Do you forget I’m not here willingly?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten that,” Tom said sharply, his arm—hooked through one of Harry’s—tightening dangerously. “After all, I’m still waiting for your darling godfather to pay up. How many times must I tell you, Harry? I’ve only done this to protect you! You _and_ Sirius. Do you want me to prove it?” 

“Prove wh-?” Harry began, words faltering all at once as Tom pulled away from Harry, reaching into his pocket. 

Tom span around and held a gun in front of him—a _gun!_ —and fired it without hesitation. 

A yelp escaped Harry’s lips as a figure clad in black collapsed forwards, his head hitting the stone pathway with a heavy thud. Harry hadn’t had any realisation that somebody had been behind them. 

He rushed towards the man, dropping to his knees as he gingerly pushed the figure over, only to find the man entirely unmoving, a bloody hole right in the centre of his forehead. 

“Tom!” Harry cried desperately, staring up at Tom in horror. Tom looked entirely unconcerned, appearing almost _bored_ as he picked idly at a nail. “You _killed_ him! You-” 

“Look at his forearm,” Tom said blandly. “He has the mark of the Hallows. A circle inside a triangle, a line right down the middle. And he’ll have a blade in his right pocket.”

Harry frowned but pulled the man’s sleeve back nonetheless, and though it was hard to see in the darkness, Harry could just make out the sign Tom had described tattooed on the man’s skin. The knife was also there, a thick, jagged blade making it seem almost like a bread knife. 

“The Hallows are a rival gang,” Tom explained, striding towards Harry and hauling him up by his shoulder. “They’re a nasty bunch run by a man named Gellert Grindelwald; so long as people do as I tell them, I leave them be, but Grindelwald kills sometimes just to make a point. These are the kind of men that I want to protect your godfather from.”

Tom crouched down to drag the body towards the edge of the river, before delivering a swift kick which sent it falling bonelessly into the cold water below. Harry stared at the spot where the body of the man had just been, his chest feeling strangely tight. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen a dead body before—that was impossible to avoid during the war and all the bombings of London—but this was the first time he had felt a sense of _relief_ beneath the horror of it. 

The man had been a criminal, and really, Tom had _saved_ Harry from him. 

“Shall we continue our walk?” Tom asked casually, offering his hand as though he hadn’t just used the same hand to pull a trigger and take out a man’s life in a matter of seconds. “It would be a shame to let this inconvenience ruin a lovely night.”

Harry gave Tom a small smile, and took his hand.

**XXX**

It had been a week, and Sirius still hadn’t paid Tom any money.

Harry knew that Sirius and Remus were struggling for money. Sirius had lost all his family’s money when he was disowned for falling in love with another man, and Remus had health problems which prevented him from working for more than a handful of hours a week. The war had taken its toll on the economy too, but they managed to scrape by.

Even if they couldn’t afford the full amount, Harry thought that Sirius would have at least been in touch with an offer for Tom, to explain that he couldn’t afford the full amount just yet but desperate to reach some kind of arrangement and ensure Harry’s return. 

Sirius loved Harry, and Harry couldn’t ever imagine Sirius giving up on him, but what if he had?

“Why so melancholy, Harry?” Tom cooed, from his position leaning against the bar, where he kept a careful watch over Harry and the rest of the club. “Would you care to try some of the Marijuana? I hear it’s excellent for calming nerves.”

“No, I don’t want to smoke anything,” Harry snapped, his words coming out harsher than intended. “Sorry, I just...why hasn’t Sirius paid you yet? Has he even been in touch?”

“Sirius? Not heard from him at all,” Tom murmured delicately, pushing away from the bar and striding over to Harry. He pushed a finger under Harry’s chin, tilting his face up until Harry’s gaze was forced to meet Tom’s. Tom’s tall height always made Harry feel so small but somehow never insignificant; all Harry really wanted to do was bury his face in Tom’s warm body and feel his comfort, even though Tom was the one who’d put Harry in the situation in the first place. 

“Oh, don’t fret, sweet thing,” Tom continued, voice soft. “As a matter of fact, now that you mention it, I don’t believe I’ve seen my messenger in over a week; in fact, the last time I saw him it was when I gave him the letter to deliver to Sirius. I do hope that Grindelwald and the Hallows didn’t get to him before he could reach Sirius.”

“Do you think that’s it?” Harry asked hopefully, trying not to feel too pleased at the possible demise of the mail boy. “Could Sirius just not have gotten his letter?”

Tom inclined his head. “Perhaps not; I would be happy to go and deliver the message to Sirius in person, if you’d like.”

Harry’s hopefulness died at once. If he knew anything for definite about Tom, it was that he never went out of his way to help somebody unless he got something better in return. 

“What do you want for it?” Harry asked, pulling away from Tom’s touch on his chin and looking up at him defiantly. “You know I’ve not got any money, and I don’t even own anything that’s worth a lot, so-”

“I’m not interested in your meagre possessions,” Tom cut in, waving a dismissive hand. “There’s one thing you have, however, which I would rather like to borrow.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “What do you-?”

“That delectable mouth of yours,” Tom said sharply, giving Harry a wicked smirk. “I want you on your knees with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, burning hot as he stared at Tom open-mouthed. 

“Wh-what?!” he stammered. “Suck your...I don’t...I’ve never. How…?”

Despite Harry’s alarm, Tom seemed entirely unfazed, his arms folded across his chest as he waited for Harry’s response. Harry had no idea what to say to Tom’s offer, however. True, he was attracted to Tom, and had been having curious thoughts about touching Tom and _kissing_ him, but never had he planned to act on it, and never had he thought about putting his mouth on...well, he had, but only in his deepest, most secret fantasies. Besides, Harry had never actually done anything remotely _sexual_ in person before. 

“Oh, you _are_ innocent,” Tom purred hungrily, taking a step closer to Harry, and another, until he had Harry pinned against the wall. “Do you know how much more desirable that makes you, Harry? Knowing that I can be the first and only one to defile you, to take away your sweet ways and teach you sinful pleasure? It’s easy, darling, I promise; all you have to do is open your mouth and let me guide you, and in return you get complete assurance that Sirius knows where you are and what he needs to do to get you back. A fair trade, for both of us.”

Though Harry’s cheeks still felt as though they were aflame, and his stomach was fluttering with nerves, he could feel his own cock stirring at the thought, and found his body arching towards Tom as though it craved his touch. And Harry was many things, but a coward was not one of them; if it could get him home, Harry wasn’t going to turn something down just because he was a little bit uncertain. 

“Okay,” Harry said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “I’ll...I’ll suck your-” he swallowed, taking a deep breath before repeating with more boldness- “I’ll suck your cock.”

Tom smiled brightly, looking utterly delighted.

“Well,” he drawled lowly, “shall we adjourn upstairs?”

Harry nodded, trying to ignore the knowing looks of Tom’s cronies as Tom grasped Harry’s wrist and tugged him upstairs. The walk to the bedroom seemed quicker than ever, and Harry tried to stay calm as the bedroom door closed behind them and Tom began to unbutton his trousers.

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to do this with Tom, or that he felt like he was being forced, but rather he was unsure of technique and had imagined his first time with somebody to be more… _romantic_. It wasn’t a beautiful, defining moment as a couple, but a rough fumble with a criminal. 

“On your knees, pet, there’s a good boy,” Tom commanded, and Harry sank to his knees obediently. He ran his fists over the soft fabric of his slacks, swallowing heavily when Tom parted his fly and revealing the hard length of his cock. 

Harry had seen other men’s bodies before, but never like that. Tom’s length was long and thick, the head a pale shade of pink which was slick from fluid seeping from the slit. Harry couldn’t imagine he’d even be able to fit his whole hand round the length, it was so thick, and he curiously tested his theory, finding his thumb and fingers indeed did not meet. 

Tom smirked down at him smugly, evidently proud of being so well-endowed. 

“Open your mouth, sweet,” Tom ordered. “And move it down my cock. Keep going until you can’t fit any more in, and then force yourself to take me just a little deeper.”

Harry nodded, doing as Tom told him. The taste of Tom’s cock was salty but not bitter, like he had feared, and the weight of it felt heavy on his tongue. Harry’s cheeks ached as he sucked Tom down, his mouth full as Harry made himself take as much as Tom’s length into him as he could. 

Tom’s fingers wound their way around Harry’s hair, tugging sharply as Tom forced Harry’s head back a bit so he could look him in the eye. Tom’s pupils were blown wide, his lips and cheeks a rosy red, and Harry thought he looked beautiful. 

“I’m going to fuck your face,” Tom said. “And you’re going to be a good boy and sit there and take it. Use your tongue as best as you can, and watch your teeth; if you bite me I’m going to spank that arse of yours until you’re begging me for mercy.”

Harry barely had time to squeak out a noise of alarm before Tom thrust his hips forwards, making Harry gag in surprise as the head of Tom’s cock caught the back of his throat. Using his grip on Harry’s hair, Tom guided Harry’s head backwards and then thrust it forwards again, meeting Tom’s cock as he pumped his hips. 

Harry had no idea how he was supposed to use his tongue, but Tom seemed to be enjoying simply having Harry’s mouth wrapped around his cock as he pushed it in and out of Harry roughly. Harry soon picked up the knack of how to breath, so he obediently kept his mouth open and tried to create a big of suction as Tom fucked in and out. 

“Such a good boy.” Tom murmured breathlessly, fingers tightening almost painfully in Harry’s hair. “You were made for this; to take me. Yes, suck me good, darling. Suck me good.”

Despite the ache in his cheeks, and the painful grip in his hair, Harry realised with horror that he was actually _enjoying_ himself. His own cock was throbbing with need, and he rubbed it with his palm through the material of his trousers. All his prior fantasies of soft, romantic touches seemed nothing compared to what Tom was showing him. 

“Yes!” Tom cried, bucking his hips harder. “I’m going to come in your mouth, and you’re going to swallow every last drop of my seed, you understand me?”

That was all the warning Harry got before Tom released in his mouth, salty fluid bursting across Harry’s tongue. He swallowed heavily, trying not to choke, but thankfully Tom began to slowly ease his softening cock out. 

Harry licked his lips clean as Tom finally pulled away and packed himself back in his trousers, still palming his own cock desperately. 

“Up,” Tom ordered, glancing down at him. “I think you deserve a reward for such a valiant effort.”

Harry jumped to his feet, and Tom immediately pressed him against the door, one of his hands sliding down into Harry’s trousers to grasp his cock. Tom’s fingers worked his length deftly, until Harry was crying out Tom’s name in pleasure as he came. 

Tom moved his hand to Harry’s mouth, pressing his stick fingers to Harry’s lips. Harry opened them obediently, licking his own release off each digit, his gaze never wavering from Tom’s own hungry one. 

“Good boy,” Tom praised, wiping his fingers dry in Harry’s hair, and Harry found himself arching into the touch. “Did you enjoy yourself, pet?”

Harry nodded, head feeling pleasantly clear, almost like he was floating. 

Tom smirked, continuing to pet Harry’s hair. “Make no mistake, Harry, no matter what happens between Sirius and I...I will always own at least a part of you.”

**XXX**

“Harry! Harry!”

Harry started as somebody called his name urgently, an arm tugging almost violently on his. He turned to see a panicked looking Pansy, the kohl around her red-rimmed eyes smudged down her cheeks. 

“Pansy? What’s wrong?” Harry asked in alarm. 

Tom had gone out with his cronies, the reason for his outing a mystery to Harry. As he always did when he went out, Tom had left Harry in the trusty hands of the prostitutes who worked the club floor. Harry was closest to Pansy, who had a witty sense of humour and was playfully devious. It wasn’t often he saw her with a frown on her face, so to see her so upset immediately had Harry’s heart racing.

“I’ve found us a way out of here,” Pansy whispered, taking Harry’s hand in hers and leading him towards one of the back doors. “We can finally get out of here!”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

“But Tom-” Harry protested. If Harry ran, who knew what Tom would do. He’d already caused problems with Sirius, and if Harry went and made that worse…

“I hear things, Harry,” Pansy said seriously. “My clients tell me things they shouldn’t because they think I’m nothing but a dumb whore who won’t understand. But I have enough information on half the men in this place to blackmail them into doing anything I want—Voldemort included. If he tries to cause trouble, I’ll tell him to go right where the sun don’t shine.”

Harry glanced around the club apprehensively, but nobody seemed interested them in the slightest. He could really get out of here! He could go home to Sirius, save him money, and they could deal with Tom when it came to it; Harry could sent the police to Tom’s club if he really wanted to, but somehow the thought of getting Tom thrown in jail left a sickening feeling of guilt in his stomach. 

“Are you coming or not?” Pansy asked. “My driver is waiting outside; he said he can’t stay long, so it’s now or never.” 

“Okay!” Harry nodded. “Yes, yes, I’ll come with you.”

Pansy beamed. “Brilliant! Quickly—he’s out the back.”

Harry hurried outside with Pansy, catching the eye of one of the burly bodyguards of the club, Crabbe or Goyle, who finally seemed to have realised what Harry and Pansy were up to.

“Hurry,” he urged Pansy. “They’re onto us!”

A sleek car was waiting round the back, just as Pansy had said, a tall figure leaning against the bonnet smoking. 

“You and your friend made it!” the man smiled, tossing his cigarette on the ground and stamping it out with his boot. 

The man offered a hand towards Harry to shake, and as his hand closed around Harry’s his sleeve fell back ever so slightly, just enough to reveal the symbol of the Hallows scrawled on his arm. 

Harry’s eyes widened in horror as the man chuckled and tightened his grip impossibly tight, yanking Harry towards him. 

“Pansy, go back inside!” Harry shouted, trying to wrestle his arm away from the man but to no avail. “Pansy, run!”

The man had reached inside his coat with his other hand and pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at Pansy. As his finger closed around the trigger Harry kicked him in the shins, knocking his aim off just enough for the bullet to go whizzing past Pansy’s face. 

“You weren’t who we wanted anyway, bitch,” the man snarled at Pansy as she screamed and dropped to her knees, hands over her ears. 

The man wrestled Harry into the back of the car, and jumped into the driver’s seat just as Crabbe/Goyle burst through the door, followed by a small group of similarly burly men, but it was too late. The man started the car and drove off with a screech of tyres, and as much as Harry tried to open the door, it was very firmly locked. 

Harry finally gave up when his fingers began to ache from his violent attempts at lock-breaking, burying his face in his hands. Perhaps being with Tom hadn’t been so bad after all.

**XXX**

The car eventually came to a stop in a neighbourhood unfamiliar to Harry, and with the amount of time they’d been driving, along with the large, extravagant houses around them, Harry was sure they were out of the East End.

The man exited the car before opening Harry’s door and hauling him out of it, his rough hands unceremoniously dragging Harry across a gravelling courtyard and into an elegant looking house. The inside was all marble floors and high ceilings, the white walls covered in gold-framed paintings. 

Harry was taken to a study and thrown onto a blood-red carpet.

“Leave us,” an accented voice said, and Harry looked up to see the back of a blond head. The figure who had spoken was browsing a bookshelf, and he took a good moment examining a book before putting it back on the shelf and finally turning to Harry. 

The man was older than Harry had expected, in his late fifties perhaps, but still quite handsome. His eyes were different colours, one blue and one grey, and his pale skin contrasted with his white-blond hair made him look like a ghost.

“Hello,” the man said with a smile, his charm and nonchalance about kidnapping Harry reminding Harry strikingly of Tom. “My name is Gellert Grindelwald; what is yours?”

Grindelwald...the leader of Tom’s rival gang, Harry remembered. 

“I asked you a question,” Grindelwald stated sharply. “It’s rude to ignore people.”

“My name is Harry,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

Grindelwald smiled in satisfaction regardless. “It’s very lovely to meet you, Harry.”

Grindelwald stepped over to Harry and crouched down in front of him, grasping his arm with a strong hand. Harry winced and tried to pull his arm back, but it only made Grindelwald’s fingers close round him even tighter.

“Nah-ah,” Grindelwald tutted, using his spare hand to pull a switchblade from his pocket. “Trust me, you don’t want to be moving just yet. If you make me slip up once, it’s on me, but if you fight me a second time I’ll have to cut up that pretty face of yours to make you behave.”

Grindelwald pushed up the fabric of Harry’s sleeve to reveal his bare skin, and pushed the cold, sharp blade of the knife against him. Harry froze, biting down on lip as the knife sliced into him, refusing to give Grindelwald the satisfaction of him screaming out.

“Things are very simple, Harry,” Grindelwald murmured as he carved a large triangle into Harry’s arm. “I have heard that Voldemort is rather smitten with his newest toy—which would be you—so you are going to be my bait. If Voldemort wants you back, he’ll have to come and get you, and if he doesn’t, well, I’ve probably done you a favour. Either way, unless you get killed in the crossfire, I have a nice job lined up for you as a male whore; pretty boys like you are so hard to come by.”

A straight line cut through the middle of the triangle, and Harry knew that all there was left now was the circle. 

“What are you going to do to Tom—Voldemort—when he gets here,” Harry asked, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain as Grindelwald cut in the final part of his symbol. 

“You seem confident he’ll come for you,” Grindelwald commented casually. “I do hope you haven’t fallen for him; men like us, we don’t hearts to give. But as for when he arrives, well, I am going to kill him. We’ve both been after the same territory for too long, and as Voldemort refused my offer to join forces, the only other option is for him to die.”

“What if he kills you first?” Harry asked, chest rising and falling heavily against the pain in his arm. 

He opened his eyes to find Grindelwald smiling down at him calmly.

“I have no fear of that happening,” Grindelwald said assuredly. “Voldemort’s death is mine.”

**XXX**

Grindelwald sighed, swinging his legs against the desk he was sat on.

“How _boring_!”Grindelwald declared. “I was hoping Voldemort would come in and create a dramatic rescue attempt. I know he doesn’t like to share, I thought taking a treasured possession would be enough to get him to come here.”

“I’m not a possession,” Harry snarled, but Grindelwald simply looked amused.

Harry supposed he couldn’t seem like much of a threat, not when he was tied to a chair, utterly helpless. Harry could scrap in the playground as well as any boy could, and often had scraped knees and bruised knuckles throughout his childhood, but the game that Tom and Grindelwald played was completely different. 

“You keep telling yourself that, lad,” Grindelwald scoffed. “Voldemort just likes you because you’re a pretty kid who’ll spread his legs or drop to knees whenever he’s asked. I had a boy just like you, who thought I loved him but didn’t realise he was only ever a good fuck to me. He’s a professor over at Oxford now; he always was a smart thing.”

Despite Grindelwald’s words, Harry could hear a sense of longing behind them. As much as Grindelwald might claim he’d had no feelings for his lover, it didn’t seem like that was quite true. 

And besides, Harry wasn’t in _love_ with Tom, and he knew that Tom didn’t love him. He was just… _addicting_. Whatever Tom was, he was confusing, but Harry only ever wanted more of him. 

Grindelwald opened his mouth to say something else, but his words were drowned out by a gunshot. The twisted smile that crossed Grindelwald’s face made Harry shiver.

More gunshots and shouts began to sound out from inside the house, but Grindelwald didn’t go to help. Instead he sat back on the edge of his desk, clutching a pistol in his hands the same way that a child might hold a doll. He didn’t even jump when the door to his study slammed open, simply firing a shot into the doorway without even looking.

Harry winced, but Tom had had the sense to step away from the entrance after he’d opened the door.

“Your men are dropping like flies,” Tom said from round the corner, and Harry could have sobbed in relief at the sound of his voice. “Hand Harry over to me and I might be tempted to let you live.”

“We both know that isn’t true,” Grindelwald tutted. “Step in here and face me like a man, Voldemort, or else I’ll put a bullet through Harry’s pretty little head.”

“Touch him and I’ll blow the head off my new friend Albus here,” Tom snarled, stepping into view and dragging an older, auburn-haired gentleman in with him.

Grindelwald’s eyes widened just a fraction, and Harry wondered if Albus was the man Grindelwald had been referring to before. 

“Sorry it took me so long to get here, lovely,” Tom said to Harry, though without taking his eyes off Grindelwald. “I had to go all the way over to Oxford to get me some insurance.”

That answered Harry’s question for him.

“Hello, Gellert,” Albus said with a smile, strangely calm for somebody who was a hostage. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Getting yourself in trouble as usual, I see,” Grindelwald retorted affectionately. “So what are you proposing we do, Voldemort? Either three of us die, or none of us do.”

“Or just you,” Tom corrected smoothly. 

Harry winced when the tip of Grindelwald’s gun pressed against the side of his head. Tom immediately turned his own on Albus, staring Grindelwald down.

“Let Harry go and leave my territory,” Tom continued darkly. “I’m giving you one chance, but I am not a patient man.”

“Nor am I,” Grindelwald retorted. “And I’m rather bored, so if you don’t mind me bringing a bit of excitement…”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as Grindelwald’s finger inched towards the trigger, but Tom was quicker. In a blut his gun was aiming away from Albus and at Grindelwald, the bullet striking him directly in the forehead. Warm blood splattered over Harry’s cheek, and Grindelwald’s lifeless body collapsed over his legs until Tom threw Grindelwald off him in disgust.

“You should have more respect for the dead,” Albus murmured sadly. 

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Harry said awkwardly, flexing his uncomfortable wrists as Tom hacked away the ropes holding Harry down. 

“He wasn’t a friend of mine for many years,” Albus answered. “But even if he was, I still wouldn’t be sad; after all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure.”

Tom scoffed. “I’d much rather make the most of the life I currently have. You can deal with the body as you see fit, Dumbledore, and remember what I told you about going to the police.”

“Yes, yes, you’ll cut me and everyone I’ve ever cared about into a million pieces,” Albus said, waving a dismissive hand as though the threat didn’t bother him at all. “Now, take your boy home; he looks exhausted.”

“I’m not-” Harry began to protest, but his words faltered when Tom scooped him up into his arms and he found himself relaxing into the hold like a ragdoll.

“Yes, sweet thing,” Tom murmured gently, so only Harry could hear him. “Let’s go home.”

**XXX**

Tom didn’t let go of Harry at all, keeping Harry pressed firmly against his side through the entire car journey. When they finally arrived back at the club, Tom carried Harry in his arms, despite Harry’s insistence that he could walk, and scowled at anyone who dared look at them. 

Harry caught a glimpse of Pansy, who had two black eyes and a busted lip, but seemed otherwise unharmed.

“Be grateful her injuries aren’t worse,” Tom growled, seeing where Harry was looking. “That dumb whore nearly ruined everything.”

“Tom…” Harry whined, throwing his arms up around Tom’s neck for extra support as Tom carried him up the stairs. “Tom, she didn’t know-”

“I don’t excuse stupidity,” Tom said sharply, dumping Harry unceremoniously on the bed. “If more harm had come to you, Pansy would have found herself in a shallow grave. As it is…” his eyes lingered on the cut on Harry’s skin. “Give me your arm.”

Harry held his arm in front of him. Tom grasped his wrist, turning it sideways and back as he studied the mark with a tut. 

“Hold it there,” Tom ordered, going over to the chest and returning with a handful of medical supplies.

He crouched down in front of Harry, eyes narrowed in concentration as he tore off a strip of bandage and poured a healthy amount of Listerine over it before wrapping it around Harry’s arm. Harry hissed as the antiseptic stung his wound. 

“It means it’s working,” Tom murmured comfortingly, as though he were soothing a small child who’d fallen and scraped their knee for the first time. “It sickens me to think you bear his mark. Grindelwald never owned you, but _I_ do; never think otherwise, my sweet.”

Tom hummed thoughtfully as he strapped tape around the bandage to hold it in place.

“I’ve done good by you, Harry, haven’t I?” Tom continued, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a switchblade. “We both know I’m a bad man, but I’ve always treated you right. So you’ll let me fix this stain on you in any way I see fit, yes?”

“Tom,” Harry said breathlessly, eyeing the blade with apprehension. “I don’t-”

“Shh,” Tom purred, placing the edge of the knife against Harry’s forehead. Harry flinched before freezing entirely, biting his lip as Tom added the slightest sting of pressure. “I’ll be quick, I promise, but I want you think of me every time you look at yourself in the mirror. I want everyone who ever looks at you to know that you’re mine.”

Harry gasped as Tom dragged the knife down in a sharp line, clenching his fists as Tom abruptly changed angle and carving another straight line, and finally changed direction again until a zig-zag, like a bolt of lightning, was cut into Harry’s head.

Warm blood trickled down Harry’s skin, his forehead feeling like it was on fire. His fingers trembled from how tightly he was clenching his fists, but he still arched up into Tom’s touch when Tom petted the top of Harry’s head and murmured “good boy.”

Tom leaned close to Harry, pressing a gentle kiss against the fresh cut on Harry’s forehead, before bringing his lips to meet Harry’s, kissing him in a dominating, bloody kiss. 

Harry moaned into Tom’s mouth, the coppery tang of his own blood on his lips somehow exciting. 

“I’m not finished with you yet,” Tom said with a devious smirk. As he pulled back, Harry saw his lips and chin were stained with smears of red, turning Tom all at once from looking like an angel to looking like the devil. “But first…”

With careful fingers, Tom gently laid an antiseptic coated patch of bandage over the cut on Harry’s forehead, taping it down at the corners. He ran a finger through some of the dripping blood, slowly and deliberately running his tongue across his bloodied finger without taking his gaze off Harry’s. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Tom said lowly. “I can give you the world, Harry, but you have to let me own you. Will you give yourself over to me? Will you be mine?”

Harry’s heart pounded heavily in his chest. The look Tom was giving him almost burned right through him, so hungry and awash with lust and desire. Harry shouldn’t want Tom, he shouldn’t. Tom was dangerous and deranged, a psychopath with a pretty face, sharp cheekbones and a sharper knife. Tom wielded a gun like he was born to take life. 

But somehow, none of that stopped Harry from wanting him. 

“Do it,” Harry urged. “Fuck me, Tom. Please, I want-”

What Harry wanted was drowned out as Tom fell onto him, kissing him soundly as he pressed Harry down onto the bed. Eager hands tore at Harry’s clothes, all but ripping them apart in Tom’s desperation to get them off.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Harry,” Tom purred. “So desperate and eager to please me. I’m going to make you feel so good; I’m going to _take_ you so hard, and you’re going to _love_ it.”

Tom reached over for a vial of oil, pouring a liberal amount on his fingers, Harry let out a whimper of pleasure as slick finger breached his hole. Nobody had ever touched Harry there, though he’d done some tentative exploration himself through his youth. It felt so different with another man touching him though, and as Tom added a second finger Harry’s hands flew up to clutch Tom’s shoulders.

Tom pumped his fingers in and out at a steady pace, inching in a third which burnt uncomfortably but not unbearably. 

“Shh,” Tom cooed as Harry whined. “You were made for this, darling, you were made to please me. No other man is ever going to make you feel like this; no other man is even going to touch you. You’re mine and mine alone, understand?”

“Yes, yes,” Harry cried, pushing back against Tom’s fingers. “Tom…”

Tom’s hands guides Harry’s legs up around Tom’s waist, and with a bit of fumbling at his slacks Tom’s cock was free, nudging at Harry’s entrance which felt empty without Tom’s fingers inside. 

Harry opened his mouth in a silent cry as Tom pushed forwards, filling Harry completely. Harry’s rim felt stretched around Tom’s cock, and he gritted his teeth as Tom pushed deeper and deeper inside him. Despite the pain, Harry’s own cock was hard and throbbing with need, and he reached a hand down to touch himself. 

Tom slapped Harry’s hand away.

“This belongs to me, too,” Tom growled. “Every inch of you is mine.”

With a sharp snap of his hips, Tom was finally buried to the hilt inside Harry. Harry let out a high-pitched moan, clutching Tom’s shoulders tightly as he tried to adjust to the alien feeling inside him. Tom didn’t give him chance to get used to it, beginning to drive an urgent pace as he fucked Harry. 

“Oh, oh!” Harry cried as a burst of pleasure exploded through him. “There! Go there!”

Tom smirked. “Bossy, aren’t you, sweet thing. Lucky for you, I’m in an obliging mood.”

One of Tom’s hands reached down to stroke Harry’s cock, while he continued his fast, deep thrusts inside Harry, repeatedly hitting the spot inside him which had Harry seeing stars. 

It was much too soon that Harry felt the familiar pressure building, and he came with a cry of Tom’s name on his lips. His arse clenched around Tom, who let out a gasp of pleasure at the sensation. His skin slapped against Harry’s as he worked himself to completion, spilling his seed inside him.

“Mine,” Tom ground out. “You’re mine. Tell, me, Harry, tell me…”

“Yours,” Harry agreed, breathlessly. “I’m yours, Tom.”

**XXX**

Harry could hear shouting going on downstairs, rousing him from his sleep. He blinked blearily, tiredness muddling his senses until he realised he _recognised_ those shouts.

He jumped to his feet all at once, not caring that he was clad only in one of Tom’s shirts—which was far too big for Harry and hung down to his thighs—and a pair of Tom’s sock, taking the steps two at a time as he burst into the club, almost sobbing in relief at the sight of Sirius and Remus stood arguing with Tom.

“Harry!” Sirius cried. “What-what has he done to you?!”

Harry realised belatedly that the especially wild—more so than usual—and bruises on his necks did him no favours.

Tom snorted. “I have been a more than generous host, haven’t I, Harry?”

“Tom’s not hurt me, I promise,” Harry said in agreement, nodding seriously.

Sirius and Remus looked disbelievingly at the bandages on Harry’s arm and forehead, before returning their scowling expressions to Tom.

“Well look,” Remus ground out, thrusting a weighted sack at Tom. “Here’s all the money you asked us for, plus a little extra. That’s all we have, I swear, so can we please have our godson back, please?”

“I don’t know,” Tom murmured, walking behind Harry and throwing an arm around his neck. He pressed his body close up against Harry’s. “That depends on whether Harry would like to go with you or stay here with me.”

Harry knew what his answer should have been, but he was conflicted. Partly because he’d found himself growing more and more attached to Tom, but also because he didn’t know how Tom would react to Harry leaving him.

Tom pushed his body further into Harry’s, and Harry barely withheld a gasp as he felt two bulges pressing into him—one, Tom’s cock which was hard and throbbing, and second, more prominent at this particular moment, was Tom’s gun. 

Tom didn’t need to say anything, or make any kind of threat. That gun was warning enough.

“I’d like to stay with Tom, actually,” Harry said quietly. “Of course I want to come and visit you, and you two can come and see me here anytime you like, but I’m happy here.” 

“But Harry-” Sirius began to protest, mouth falling open, but Tom cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Harry is old enough to decide for himself what he wants. Besides, I have grown quite fond of Harry, and as I like to see him happy I’m willing to put in extra effort into helping your bar grow, despite how rude the both of you have been to me. Naturally I’ll raise my own cut of your earnings a little bit more, but now you’ve had to pay out all of your cash, I’m sure you’ll be happy for any kind of business boost.”

“You,” Sirius growled, pointing an aggressive finger towards Tom, “are a monster. And I don’t know what you’ve done to Harry to make him act like this, but as you’ve said he’s old enough to make his own decisions. But I swear, you even think about harming a single hair on his head and I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Sirius,” Harry cut in, before his threat to Tom could come out. “I’ll still see you all the time, I promise.”

It hurt to say goodbye to Sirius and Remus, but Harry had to stay with Tom. It was safer for Remus and Sirius that way, but also Tom seemed to only have a soft side when Harry was around. If Harry left, Tom would have no reason to be kind and eventually he’d completely lose himself in the darkness, but if Harry stayed there’d always be a reason for Tom to stay human.

Harry was giving up his old life, but in return he was saving three other people.

Besides, he wanted to be a good boy for Tom. He owed him that.

**XXX**

Harry moaned loudly, arching his back as he rode Tom’s cock. 

“That’s it, darling,” Tom purred, hands grasping Harry’s hips firmly. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

Tom reached down the side of the chair to grab his gun, placing the side of it against Harry’s lips. 

“Lick it,” Tom ordered. “There’s a good boy.”

Harry obeyed, dragging his tongue across the cold metal and tasting the heavy tang of copper. Tom turned the gun round so Harry could lick the other side, then forced the end of the gun into Harry’s mouth. It was unloaded, Harry knew, but Harry still felt a jolt of excitement as he sucked on the tip of the gun while he continued to bounce on Tom’s cock.

“You know,” Tom murmured, pulling the gun out and dragging the wet metal across Harry’s cheek before putting it back in Harry’s mouth. “With all that money Sirius gave me, I think there’s enough left for you to buy yourself something nice. Would you like that, darling?”

Harry whined around the gun as Tom’s cock brushed his prostate, his eyes fluttering shut against the pleasure. Tom chuckled darkly, and gave a particularly hard thrust upwards. 

“I promised you the world, Harry, and that’s what you’re going to get,” Tom urged. “I’m all you’ll ever need.”

Tom was right; Harry knew nobody else could ever make him so happy. Voldemort may be a monster to some, but to Harry, he was just Tom.


End file.
